


Smooth Criminal

by loki_godofmischiefandlies



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies)
Genre: A request fill, Can't stop me now, M/M, No Sex, Roquill - Freeform, This was supposed to be a drabble, but it's not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-31
Updated: 2014-10-31
Packaged: 2018-02-23 10:17:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2543912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loki_godofmischiefandlies/pseuds/loki_godofmischiefandlies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket really wishes Peter would stop shaving his beard off.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Smooth Criminal

**Author's Note:**

  * For [grocketinmypocket](https://archiveofourown.org/users/grocketinmypocket/gifts).



> Grocketinmypocket posted "Someone cheer me up and write a drabble about Rocket hating it when Peter shaves off his beard. I get sad whenever I see clean-shaven Pratt" on tumblr. I felt the need to do so. It's not a drabble, but I doubt you'll mind much lol.

The first time it happened, Rocket couldn't really  _blame_ Peter. The Guardians had been called to some ass-backwards planet on the outside of a slightly less backward quadrant, and when they got there Peter had caught a face full of thick alien goop that smelled of rotten fish and  _did not come out of his hair_. 

"Oh shut up." he had whined, face turning a pretty shade of pink under the bile colored goo. Rocket had to brace himself against Groot's rough leg to keep from falling over, his laughter reaching a howling crescendo. 

Boy was he regretting laughing now. Peter sauntered out of the bathroom, steam billowing out behind him, one towel draped over his hips while he rubbed his face and hair dry with the other, and when the towel dropped, Rocket had to bite back a whimper. 

_Peter's beard was gone_. Without it, he still maintained a bit of his rugged charm, but his face looked more boyish, less refined...a sharp growl escaped Rocket before he could even realize what was happening. 

"What?" Peter asked, looking down at the raccoon with his brows furrowed. Rocket's ears went back, almost plastered to his skull, and his tail puffed up a bit. 

"You look like...like...like a  _flarkin'_ infant." he snapped, storming off to curl up in the nest of blankets in his bunk. 

Stupid Peter and his stupid, beardless face. 

-x-x-x-x-x-

Rocket didn't even realize it had happened again until he found himself crammed into a tiny smuggling compartment with the stupidly bulky Terran. 

"Jesus Quill, you're massive." Rocket grunted, pushing at Peter rather mercilessly with his feet until he could squirm around enough to get comfortable. Yeah, maybe that comfort ended up with him sitting firmly in Peter's lap, his tail brushing against the man's mask, but so what? It was a  _really_ small compartment, okay? 

"Yeah, well, your frickin' tail is making my neck itch." Peter snapped back, voice slightly muffled. Rocket rolled his eyes and turned a bit. The eyes of Peter's mask gleamed red in the dark. 

"Take that stupid thing off, will you? You're gonna give us away if you can't keep your voice down in it." he whispered, narrowing his eyes dangerously. Peter reached up to hit the button that would make the mask collapse back into apparent nothingness, but it did nothing. 

"Fuck, it's jammed." he grumbled. 

"Jammed? How'd it get  _jammed?_ " Rocket asked, turning a bit more to tap at the metal surface. 

"Must've gotten clogged up with all that gravel I basically ate when that guy threw us down the hill. I can unjam it, I just need to get it off first." Quill explained. Rocket let out a slow sigh and reached up. "What're you doing?" Peter asked when he felt the brush of claws and paws against his jawline. 

"Getting the stupid thing off for you. My hands are smaller, it'll be easier." Rocket muttered in reply. He managed to get his fingers under it with no small amount of griping and cursing from Peter, and from there it was relatively simple to get it off, just a nice, easy slide across smooth skin and- _oh, you bastard_. 

"Did you seriously shave your beard off again?" Rocket pouted before he even knew he was saying it. Peter went unnaturally still, moving at the last second to catch his mask as Rocket dropped it in shock. 

"Yeah. It grew in weird after the last time so I thought I'd give it another go." he answered slowly, eyeing Rocket curiously. Rocket was yet again infinitely grateful for the fur covering his face; gods, he hadn't blushed this much since the first time he kissed someone. He planted one small hand on each of Peter's cheeks and locked eyes with him. 

"Don't. Flarking. Shave. Your beard off." he growled dangerously, and just the faintest application of claws against Peter's baby soft face was enough to get the message across. Peter swallowed thickly. 

"Yeah, you got it." 

-x-x-x-x-x-

Peter never asked for an explanation until after another narrow escape. They had gotten separated from Gamora, Drax, and Groot in the middle of what had turned out to be a pretty intense battle, and tensions were high. Peter was limping slightly, having taken a shot to the thigh that would have otherwise hit Rocket straight in the face. Rocket's tail was singed, bald in places, and his whiskers were burnt little nubs. Every bit of him hurt as he nodded in the direction of the Milano. He had never been so grateful to see that hunk of junk. They slumped up the stairs and waved off the others, ready to just collapse into their respective beds and sleep until they didn't hurt so much. 

"Hey Rocket?" Peter asked, just as Rocket was about to push open the door to his room. 

"Yeah?" Rocket replied, rubbing at his cheeks and wincing when he accidentally brushed the sensitive nubs that were once his whiskers. 

"How come you got so pissed the last time I shaved?" 

Rocket's mouth went dry and he made a small, choked noise. 

"What're you talking about?"  _Play dumb, maybe he'll just leave it be._ His little heart started to slam against his ribcage, evidently not worn out from all the running they had just done. 

"You get mad when I shave. Why?" Peter repeated. Rocket bit back a groan and his tail sagged as he turned around. 

"I've got no clue what you're talking about." Rocket lied, shooting Peter a sharp smile. "Now I'm gonna go to bed, 'cause I'm burnt to hell." 

"No, I'm tired of dancing around this." Peter snapped, brows drawing together angrily. He took a limping step and crossed the distance between them, staring down at Rocket with his arms folded across his chest. "What the hell is going on?" 

"Don't worry about it, okay?!" Rocket cried, throwing his hands up into the air and almost nailing Peter in the thigh. Peter flinched the tiniest bit and then knelt slowly so that he was eye to eye with Rocket. 

"I'm not worried. I just want to know." he said softly.  _Oh, not the puppy face_ Rocket thought, his own features softening as Peter's bottom lip poked out the tiniest bit and his eyes went all big and wide. 

"I...you...I feel  _creepy_ when you look all young and shit." Rocket mumbled, looking away and running his burnt tail between his hands in a self-soothing gesture. Peter chuckled and tapped Rocket's cheek. 

"Creepy? For what?" 

"C'mon Quill, don't make me say it..." 

"Nope. You've gotta say it." Peter smirked, eyes gleaming. Rocket glared at him and smacked him gently across the face with his tail as he let it go. 

"I feel creepy when I look at you with your hairless humie baby-face and still wanna kiss the living shit out of you, okay?" 

Peter's face flushed and he had the decency to look sheepish. It was actually kind of cute, but Rocket wouldn't let him know that. He was already bristling, wanting to escape the cage that Peter had effectively trapped him in by putting him between the wall and Peter himself. The hand that had tapped Rocket's cheek cupped his jaw almost roughly and tipped Rocket's head up. 

"Don't ever think that my baby-face means I'm in any way a baby...or innocent." Peter smirked before hauling Rocket into the filthiest, most crushing kiss either of them had ever experienced, teeth and claws and nails and facial hair clashing beautifully. 

Nobody said anything when they came slinking out of the same room the next morning, or when Groot plucked a few beard hairs from Rocket's fur with a hoot of amusement. 

Peter threw out his razor after that, and only ever trimmed his beard to keep it neat. 


End file.
